


colors, water, and falling

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth has synesthesia, F/F, Kissing, My Unit | Byleth Has Emotions, Post-War Crimson Flower, Rating to Change, Rough Body Play, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), tags to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A few months ago, Edelgard had bashfully started to request a kiss before you left her room. This, alone, was not problematic. You understood kissing, from a biological and anatomical standpoint, and had some practice with the gesture since it was popular for the other mercenaries to dare each other to try to do it to you once upon a time. No, the problem with kissing Edelgard was how much you enjoyed it. You found the act nearly as pleasurable as an evening alone at the monastery pond with your fishing rod. Kissing Edelgard had a habit of crawling into your mind at the most inopportune times, and you were privately very confused why something so base tended to plant itself in your head like a kudzu vine, creeping up and strangling thoughts you often used for other things, like ‘breathing’ and ‘eating’.or:Byleth has lived her entire life without thinking or feeling too deeply. Now she can't stop.





	1. going around

You’re quickly becoming frustrated by the incessant thumping in your chest at all hours of the day.

It’s absence was never something you had found especially notable before, and you’d never really understood why Dorothea, one of the few people you’d revealed this to had laughed it off as a joke. But since the death of the Immaculate One, your heart had made its presence known every single day, rattling around your chest like a wild dog in a cage. It was making your time with Edelgard very difficult, a fact that you deeply did not appreciate. 

In fact, since you’d been swept away to a life in the Imperial capital of Enbarr nearly half a year ago, you only had to thank your heart for making your daily training more difficult and for pounding in your head like a war drum whenever you were alone with the woman you’d killed a dragon with and for. 

The first thing was annoying. The second one was unacceptable. 

“...Professor, are you well? You’re gritting your teeth.” 

Said woman’s voice brings you out of your reverie, and makes you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I’m...frustrated, I think.” You lifted up her steel boot by the heel and pulled it off her, adjusting your stance to help her out of the other one. This was your nightly ritual on evenings where she’d been present at some official matter in the armor of the Emperor, which was significantly less complicated than the ceremonial garb she needed for some courtly intrigues you didn’t quite understand, but was still annoying enough to remove alone that she’d pulled you into her chambers and asked for your help.

“Frustrated?” Her face is above you, and you don’t want to look at her, because you know when you do your heart will start its distracting wheezing again. You can tell she’s searching your visage though, her intense gaze making you uncharastically self-aware as you undo the straps adhering her greaves and knee armor. “That is somewhat unlike you, my teacher. What is on your mind?” 

You feel a twinge of that strange emotion again, but push it away. It’s a blue and violet emotion that makes you want to hide your thoughts from Edelgard, and as such you’d categorized it as unhelpful. “It’s my heart. It’s really distracting and I’m not sure what to do about it.” The latter was the real problem - being in a situation you couldn’t remedy with your insight and tactical thinking was something that made you uncomfortable, you had realized. 

“Distracted -” She starts, and you can tell she’s looking at your face again. Blue and violet. She pauses, and clears her throat. “It occurs to me that you’re not being metaphorical. I sometimes forget about your unusual...circumstance. Distracting, you say.”

“Yes.” Her comment makes you think about Dorothea laughing at you, again. It also makes you think about the tears on Edelgard’s face falling onto yours when you opened your eyes after the death of the Immaculate One. THAT memory makes you feel a whole other host of newly colored emotions that you quickly set aside to sort through later. “It makes training very difficult, because it makes me tired more quickly than usual. And when I’m alone with you, it’s very loud and makes it difficult to focus on your voice.” 

“It...does.” 

“Yes.” When you stand to start removing the straps of the bone armor, you catch a glance of her face, which has turned very slightly pink. You try to not think about how cute that is, instead taking a sitting position behind her on the bed and begin to start loosing the set of complicated knots that keep the entire thing fashioned to the under-cuirass. 

“Professor.” She says, after a moment, and the soft way she says it makes your heart tighten in your chest, as if it was twisted by an unseen hand. You can’t see Edelgard’s face, but you know she doesn’t use this tone unless you two are alone. “I have not been entirely fair to you these last few months. I know both of us have been busier than ever, but it is unfair of me to ask you to be content with these nightly associations.” 

You nod, even though she’s not looking at you and you’re not entirely grasping what she’s talking about, but because you recognize the note in her voice that she only uses when she wants to tell you something important. 

“As you’ve no doubt noticed, I am not...always comfortable with my own feelings. I put aside a lot of things when I had decided on this plan of mine - of ours,” she catches herself, and you do hear a faint smile creep into her voice. “And the idea I could ever have a, ah, fulfilling personal life was one of those. But that isn’t an excuse for not trying.”

You nod again, still not sure where this is going. That emotion you intensely dislike comes back. You wonder if it is ‘anxiety’. Dorothea had told you about the feeling it created once, like a pool of rotten fluid suddenly appearing in your stomach, and that’s exactly what this feels like. 

Edelgard tries to find her ground again. “What I’m trying to say is, Professor, you’re someone I care for. A great deal. And I’ve been doing myself a disservice by pretending the apex of this relationship should be you being my glorified squire.”

You almost tell her you don’t mind doing this, but something in your brain catches the sentiment and tells you it’s not what she wants to hear right now. You didn’t though; you loved spending time with her and hearing about her day, and, also, it was a useful skill to know. 

_Unarmoring. Not undressing Edelgard._ Right. You were not thinking about that last one right now. That was definitely unhelpful for your heart. You finish removing the last of the bronzed armor, setting aside her ornate pauldrons next to the bed in a neat pile you’d assembled as you worked. Edelgard looks up at you over her shoulder when you do, and then pats the spot on the bed next to her; the pink is back in her ears. _Cute._ You acquisent to her request, moving over. 

“Professor.” When you look over at her, you can see she’s been gripping your father’s ring, at rest on a chain around her neck, this entire time. Reflexively, you take her free hand in yours and squeeze it. “You are very sweet.” 

A few months ago, Edelgard had bashfully started to request a kiss before you left her room. This, alone, was not problematic. You understood kissing, from a biological and anatomical standpoint, and had some practice with the gesture since it was popular for the other mercenaries to dare each other to try to do it to you once upon a time. No, the problem with kissing Edelgard was how much you enjoyed it. You found the act nearly as pleasurable as an evening alone at the monastery pond with your fishing rod. Kissing Edelgard had a habit of crawling into your mind at the most inopportune times, and you were privately very confused why something so base tended to plant itself in your head like a kudzu vine, creeping up and strangling thoughts you often used for other things, like ‘breathing’ and ‘eating’. 

Also, you faintly worried it might be something you were bad at, and given that your emperor and student seemed to greatly depend on it, this fact worried you. You were not entirely used to being bad at anything physical. 

“El,” you say, your mouth moving before your brain can stop it. “Can I try kissing you again tonight?” 

The heat in her ears starts to travel down to her cheeks, but she nods silently. 

If you’re overthinking this whole thing, you reflect, maybe it was time to try your second strategy. As you leaned forward to cup her cheek and press your lips to hers, you simply abandon rational thoughts and give yourself over to the same instinct that had saved your life so many times on the battlefield now. 

She is so soft, and so warm, and so gentle. The noise of your heart calms, and you’re perfectly aware of yourself and Edelgard, of her hand breaking free of your grasp so she can drape her arms around your shoulders. There’s something about this kiss that feels different than all the ones before it, and as you realize that it is precisely at the moment that you give away control to the rising feeling in your throat.

Your tongue brushes against the door of Edelgard’s lips, and you can tell the sensation startles her, as can feel her fight or flight reaction kick on. You’re about to pull the reins, guilty, when she pulls you back, closer to her, until you’re toppling over her on the bed and your tongue is in her mouth, exploring like a beast looking for prey. You feel you and her entwine, her gloved palm flat against you the back of your head of hair, and instinctively you do the same to her. Soft locks of white fall between your fingers like liquid ambrosia. When you try to withdraw from her, suddenly intensely aware of your own need to breathe, her teeth gently bite your lip, and the sudden feeling makes you shudder, the pain from it not entirely unpleasant.

“Sorry,” you immediately say, looking down at Edelgard from above, having pushed yourself up and away to come up for fresh air. 

“For what…?” She seems nearly in a daze. She isn’t smiling, but there’s a glassy look in her eyes and the heat on her cheeks has intensified. She’s nearly as thoroughly out of breath as you are, and her quiet panting makes her chest softly raise and lower. The sight of it makes you want to kiss her again, and again - no. You muzzle that feeling. 

“I should’ve asked you if I could’ve done…” You blank. What? What DID you just do? “That.” 

For whatever reason, this does make her smile, slightly. “You are very ridiculous, Professor. It was - very nice.” 

“Oh. That’s good.” You hear yourself say, but you’re already descending on her again, this time leaving her mouth for places you’d never considered kissing before, but the appeal of them in the moment dawned on you like a revelation from the goddess. You kiss her chin, her jaw, the lobe of her ear, trailing your mouth down the long marble column that was her neck, and Edelgard exhales laboriously beneath you, and when she swallows you can taste her pulse, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings in your jaws. 

Your heart is so, so loud. Even when you were clashing swords with men and women intent on killing you, it hadn’t been this loud. The moment of calmness the chaste, gentle kiss had granted you was past. You wondered if you were going to die, and if that was an acceptable trade off for getting to rain these suckling bites on Edelgard’s neck. It probably was. What worries you more is the complete lack of self-control you’re increasingly unable to exert, every new noise you discover the woman you’d cut a world apart for can make eroding your reason a little more. 

You put a hand to her chest, hover over her heart, feeling it also pound through the tailored shirt she had been wearing beneath her armor. It occurs to you how easy it would be to rip the entire poor piece of cloth off her, and it’s when she not only seems to submit to the action but eggs you on with soft gasps of ‘professor’ that you freeze, fist wrapped around the row of buttons on her garment. Your vision falls on your father’s ring, still attached to a fine silver chain on her neck, that you had so casually pushed aside to get at your prize.

_This isn’t right,_you hear you tell yourself, your heart nearly drowning the sudden thought out. You mentally pull the leash on the mad dog that your body had become in the last few moments. Your sudden motionless gets Edelgard’s attention, and her expression instantly becomes one of worry, her arms still resting on your back and hair. You barely think about that. You’re thinking about the dagger that killed your father, heading towards his back. Why? Where did that come from? 

“Sorry.” Your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. “I don’t think I’m ready to go any further.” 

Edelgard is looking at you now, definitely worried. She puts a hand on your cheek, which gets you to finally release your vice grip on her shirt. “Professor, are you...crying?” 

“No.” You blink, and receive two eyefuls of water for the effort. “Yes,” you correct. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Her expression turns stormy, and you hate that more than the fact that you're crying in the middle of your time alone with her.

“No. Never. I don’t - “ You feel like you’re drowning in your own head, at sea in a leaking boat. You briefly envision a hole in your brain pouring out water that leaves through your eyes, and the thought so upsets you that more tears fall out of your eyes and onto Edelgard’s nice shirt and THAT upset so much that you start choking on your own voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Your vision turns a shade of black and blue, and you feel the tsunami brewing within your heart threaten to spill out, spill out onto the woman beneath you, and that is - unacceptable, wrong, unnatural, all these things you feel - 

“I need to go to an infirmary,” you manage to stutter out. 

You try to pull away further from Edelgard, but she surprises you with a rush of strength, pulling you towards her - and over her, onto her shoulder as she hoists you out of bed. You simply let her, because you think fighting her will cause you to burst with sadness. Your vision darkens when you feel her red cloak drapes over you. A door slams shut. Being able to see nothing feels better than seeing anything, and the small comfort allows you to recognize that Edelgard is moving, sprinting, in fact, with you in her arms.

“Your Majesty - “ You hear Hubert’s tone of surprise start suddenly, but by the time the second syllable has left his mouth, he’s already far away. 

“Not now, Hubert!” Edelgard sounds like she’s speaking through clenched teeth. You feel her gently press weight on your back to keep you still as she descends and ascends two different sets of stairs, and then you hear another door forcibly pushed open. 

“Edelgard, what -” Manuela’s voice this time. An unattached part of you notes that she sounds slightly hung over. She’d adapted to life in the palace, overjoyed at the bigger infirmary Edelgard had immediately put her in charge of. 

“The professor isn’t well,” Edelgard says, panic creeping up in her voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” 

You immediately hear Manuela snap to attention, her heels clicking against the stone floor. “Here, put her in a bed.”

You feel yourself lowered into something soft, and Edelgard’s cloak falls off your eyes. You still feel lost, the image of your sinking boat on a stormy sea slowly filling with saltwater as you can do nothing but shake and tremble. Manuela is asking you something, and she places an ear against your chest briefly, but you can no longer actually process her words. You close your eyes again and allow yourself to slip from your mental vessel into the sea below, realizing with some relief that it pulls you into unconsciousness instead of the finality of death even as you fade. 

The last thing you take with you is the feeling of Edelgard’s palm on your cheek, and her violet eyes above you, bright and wet like fresh from the earth amethysts.


	2. red sentimentality

_You are having the nightmare where Jeralt dies again. Your brain often played it on repeat these past few years, freshly inventing some new atrocious detail or setting to keep you on edge even when you realize what’s happening and refuse to engage with it. This time, you’re standing in the ruins of the destroyed chapel, and your father’s back is to you. You are both wading amidst a pile of corpses, all wearing the uniform of Garreg Mach, their blood pooling and pouring out of them until the ground is a wading pool of viscera. When you move, it’s like the air is made of jelly, both thick and nebulous at the same time, and when the dagger flies through your father’s chest and comes sailing towards your face you cannot react fast enough to stop it and everything is so, so, so red -_

You open your eyes groggily, feeling like you’d just been trampled by a horse. An all-consuming weariness rolls over you from head to toe, your bones aching like you’d just been training for the entire night instead of sleeping.

Manuela looks over a book from her place at your bedside chair. “Oh!” She shuts it and sets it aside, drawing up to you. “Good morning, Professor.”

You open your mouth to return her greeting but it comes out more like ‘good mrnng’. 

“How are you feeling?” Her tone is kindly, but there’s a note of anxiety there, like she’s not sure what to expect. You try this whole talking thinking one more time, clearing your throat and pushing yourself up. 

“Bad,” you answer. 

“Define, honey. Use your words.”

You think about it, letting last night’s events play through in your mind. “I embarrassed Edelgard.”  
Manuela frowns concernedly. “Professor, you had an anxiety attack of a frankly impressive magnitude. After the emperor hand delivered you to me, you trembled until you fell asleep; while you were out, I discovered you had an irregular heartbeat. Did you know that?” There’s no one else in small royal wing infirmary, but she leans in and quiets her voice. 

You pull your legs up to your chest. “No.” Your voice sounds uncharacteristically shaky. 

Manuela doesn’t say anything, but she does stare at you wordlessly, a slight frown on her face. You’d always considered Hanneman and Manuela good friends, as much as you’d been able to understand that concept, as they had truly went out of their way to treat you as an equal at the monastery. They’d invited you to every one of their meetings and parties, and they’d traded teaching the Eagles when your father had died and you needed a week to just sit and stare at a wall. They were kind, and protective of you, but they also respected you greatly in the areas of your expertise. You’d wondered before if this what having siblings was like, after Edelgard had told you about hers. 

“I know this is embarrassing, dear, but I need you to tell me what exactly you were doing last night that brought this on. An irregular heart is a very serious condition, and agitating it can bring on...er, very serious symptoms.” She frowned a little deeper. “Besides, it seems like you may need to talk to someone.”

“I was kissing Edelgard.” The lack of hesitation on your part makes Manuela blink. “And it was very nice. And then I started thinking about my father, and it made me feel...terrible.” 

“You were having sex?” 

You tilt your head at her question. You understood it from an academic perspective, but applying the word ‘sex’ to anything you and Edelgard would ever do seemed odd in your mind. The vine that encircles your active thoughts about her rattles and grows a little thicker at the mere suggestion. You shake your head no, maybe a little faster than you intend. 

“No sex. Just kissing?”

“Yes.”

“I see. I’ll refrain from teasing you about this just now -”

“I think I’m bad at it.”

Manuela startles, the frown on her face turning into a confused, small grin. “The kissing?”

“Yes.”

“What could possibly make you think that, dear?”

You screw your face up, trying to think of a concrete reason. “It’s hard for me,” you settle on at last. “I don’t understand how to do it in the right way, and sometimes I stop thinking about Edelgard when I’m doing it and just start thinking about the best way for it to feel nice for me.”

“Professor, that’s relatively normal.” 

“Oh.” You weren’t sure you liked that at all.

“Also, with all due respect to your many talents Professor, either you’re actually quite a very good kisser, or Edelgard’s neck was attacked by the most affectionate bat in the world on the way over here.”

You didn’t really know what that meant, so you didn’t say anything. Manuela puts a hand on your back, rubbing it in small circles to comfort you. “Can you tell me what brought your attack on, specifically? Was there some...sight or sound that set you off?” You think, but trying to remember last night renders it in a mixture of bright emotive paints and your own complicated feelings about Edelgard. After a few beats, you stumble over something, the flash of silver on Edelgard’s red shirt striking out towards you. 

“My dad’s ring.”

Manuela’s eyebrow raises. “Jeralt had a ring?”

You nod. “He told me to give it to a person I loved. Someone I loved as much as he loved my mother.”

“And you gave it to Edelgard?” Nod. “When was this?”

“After the war.”

Manuela looks especially troubled by this information. “And you’re not...you’re just now kissing like this?”

You nod for a third time. 

She sighs, and stands up, chewing on a long thumbnail as she paces the room. You watch her curiously, trying to figure out if you’d ever seen the older woman quite this agitated. After a moment, she sighs, mutters, and addresses you again. “Professor, as you probably know, magical healing is more or less ineffective for the sake of internal wounds.”

“Yes.” You thought about your father, dying in your arms.. You think about the desperate way you had cycled through every restorative spell you’d known, trying to pinpoint exactly what was wrong - but even after closing his wound, he’d still faded away so quickly in your arms. There’d been no autopsy for the man, but you’d studied enough anatomy afterwards to realize that Monica’s dagger had probably pierced deep enough to rupture multiple organs, and at that point the only thing that could’ve saved Jeralt was battlefield surgery, administered on the spot. After your five year long sleep, you’d spent a not insignificant amount of time studying the art of doctoring, but you’d never had enough time to devote to the science with the war going on. 

“You know then, that I can’t snap my delicate fingers and make your heart better on the spot. I’ll have to consult Hanneman and some other medical professionals I know for advice, but from what I understand, this condition is something that most people live with for the rest of their lives.”

“Oh.” Your stomach twisted into a knot. You’d been superficially injured a lot in your short life as a mercenary, and nothing had ever done more than been painful and leave a scar for the most part. At one point, you might’ve been able to shrug off the mental ramifications of permanently damaging yourself, but now, the idea settled itself into your thoughts like a leech biting down on flesh. 

You feel and hear Maneula sitting back down next to you, taking your hand from your knee so she can squeeze it. Her voice was calm and quiet. “Only you know your limits, Professor, but for now, you shouldn’t engage in anything more intense than light exercise for a few days. If you feel yourself growing faint, you need to stop what you’re doing, sit or lay down, and calm yourself as best as you can. If you can’t, you need to call for help.”

You nodded slowly. 

“There’s some vulneraries that will help you with this sort of thing, but it will take time for you to get back to full strength. Do you understand all this? Do you have any questions?” 

“Can I still kiss Edelgard?”

Manuela blinks again, the question taking her off guard, but she answers after a second. “As long as you follow what I just told you - but keep in mind your physical and mental breaking points, here. Also…you should probably...hmm.”

You tilt your head questioningly when she doesn’t continue.

“Nothing. Hold still for a moment.” She touches your leg, and then your arm, and each time you feel the warm trickle of healing magic flow into you, soothing over your soreness and aches like a balm. Within a few moments, you feel much better. It’d been so long since you’d last seen her in action that you’d forgotten how skilled Maneula’s talent with the art actually was. “Better, right?” She says.

“Yes. Thank you. How did you know I was sore?”

“Child,” she calls you affectionately, “I understand your woes better than you might think.”

*** 

Maneula lets you sleep a bit more, and when you awaken there is a fresh set of clothes waiting at the foot of your bed for you. When you don’t recognize them as anything you’d ever worn before, you inquire about them to your caretaker.

“Edelgard’s pet demon brought them in for you,” Maneula answers. 

“Hubert?” This time, it’s your turn to be surprised. 

“Yes - I believe he said there was a message for you in the bundle.”

There was - a tiny envelope hidden between a folded pair of trousers and a shirt. You removed it, the smell of freshly used ink instantly wafting out towards you. You recognize Hubert’s flawless penmanship and also his signature terseness. 

_Professor,_

_Her Majesty had informed me that she’d like to speak to you as soon as you’d woken up. She asked me to pass these garments along to you to wear, and I have dutifully fulfilled this request. I believe her intent was to present them to you as a gift, the night of your unfortunate accident. At this time of day, you will find her in the private courtyards, taking her lunch. _

_As you know, I do not indulge in pointless sentimentality, but I do hope you’re feeling more recovered, if for nothing else than the sake of Lady Edelgard’s mental health._

_X_

“Hm.”

“Hm?” Manuela looks up at you from her desk.

“That was kind of Hubert.”

“I’m just as shocked as you are darling,” She says sarcastically, standing up and pacing over. “I have a few errands to run, so I’ll leave you to your changing, but I wanted to give you some things before I do - here, make sure to take these with you.” She hands you a set of vulnerary vials full of a sickly transparent white liquid and a large, leatherbound book. 

“Drink from those once a day with food for the rest of the week, and let me know how you feel.” 

“What is this book?” You hold it up. There’s no title on the cover, and when you start to open it, Manuela clears her throat. 

“Just some reading material you may benefit from.” You nod, letting the subject drop. Manuela winks at you, and starts for the entranceway of the infirmary. “Feel better, Professor.”

“I’ll try to.”

After she rounds the corner, you flick open the book, paging forward over several blank pages before a title jumps out at you. 

** _A Manual Of The Romances of Saints and Their Positions of Prayer_ **

** _Collected Works and Anthology._ **

***

The clothes Edelgard sent to you are supremely comfortable, and you’re not quite surprised when you see the signature mark of the emperor’s personal tailor on the inside of the shirt. A pair of crimson trousers, fine black boots, a white button up shirt, a pair of black dress gloves. They’re probably the nicest clothes you’ve ever worn, and while more maculine than you’re used to, definitely not unpleasant in the least. You wonder if Edelgard personally requested these made for you, and the thought makes you feel a kind of nebulously warm. You take your old jacket, clothes, and Manuela’s book to your loaned chambers, and drop them off. 

On the way out, the Sword of the Creator you’d left in a rack above the unlit hearth catches your eye and something about it makes you stop. 

Ever since you’d driven the weapon into the Immaculate One’s head and your heart had started beating again, the Sword of the Creator had fallen nearly inert in your hands. It still responded faintly, and you were confident you could wield it to victory in a contest against just about anyone other than Felix, but the odd, living bone material it was made of no longer shone, and the bladed whip that lurked within the sword had become more sluggish and difficult to control. 

Seeing it on the mantle like this, alone and unmoving made you feel an odd kind of sentimentality. It was, after all, the only physical proof remaining that you’d once known the Goddess Sothis and had even called her a friend. You missed her, you thought, and not in the same way you missed Jeralt, or Edelgard when she was away, but in an uncomplicated, simple way - you missed her because she had been family.

Still, she had told you that she’d always be with you, and sometimes, on clear days, you could faintly hear her mocking laughter in the peals of church bells in the capital. It made you smile. 

You reach out and take the Sword with you, affixing it to your belt with a series of straps you’d had cut for the bizarre weapon during the war. The weight of the thing is comforting, and the feeling helps you keep down the disgusting taste of the vulnerary Maneula had given you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm i settled on the heart focus more than I thought I was gonna but i keep thinking about the final cutscene of crimson flower and getting a Feeling. I recognize dialogue isn't my strong suit but i hope you enjoyed the chapter nonetheless.


	3. coils

Edelgard’s chamber sat neighbor to an open air courtyard, and while you were never quite sure of the strategic value of having such an area so vulnerable to wyverns and pegasuses connected directly to the Emperor’s sleeping quarters, it was difficult to argue with the beauty of the place. Rows of flowering bushes and hedges blanketed the area in a soft, pleasant scent, while the natural reds, blues, and yellows of blooming vines and shrubs greatly lightened up the otherwise drab stonework of the Imperial palace.

A single, lonely table sat in the center of it all, and it was here that the new leader of the entire country most often relaxed when the day was nice, like today. 

When you catch sight of her, a feeling of contentment climbs into a compartment in your chest and takes up lodging, circling around your gently beating heart like a protective dragon. She is at her most beautiful when she had a moment to not be the emperor and could just be a woman - while you felt a dire affection for her armored back, Aymr in her hand, you wanted nothing more than for her to be idle and content. You wanted to give her that one day, just like you’d endeavored to give her this free Fodlan. 

Still, your affection for her is tempered by the fact that she had to throw you over her shoulder and run you to a medical wing in the middle of the night because you had a panic attack while you were kissing her. Thorns of anxiety grew around that feeling of contentment, and you hoped she didn’t view you suddenly as a burden. 

When she spies you, a cup of tea halfway to her mouth and a book in her hand, her eyebrows raise and a pinkness flows up to her ears. You’re not sure why you’re inspiring that reaction this time, but you’d always enjoyed having that effect on her. It was cute. It was cute the first time you had noticed it in her, back when she had steadfastly refused to let you see the drawings of you she’d produced in secret. 

“Professor! You’re out of bed,” she says as she stands up, putting her drink and reading material down. She assess you for a moment, her eyes lingering on the Sword of the Creator at your hip briefly. “You look better today.”

“I do feel better.”

“Would you like something to drink?” She offers you a seat, which take.

“That would be nice.” You nod. She pours you a cup of tea - bergamot, which you instantly recognize as her favorite. You’d often endeavored to bring it to her in your weekly meetings at the monastery, a lifetime ago. 

You’d always cared deeply for the students of the Black Eagle house, but even back then, Edelgard had been special to you, in a way that you’d been completely ignorant of. Was it simple protectiveness, some desire for justice Jeralt had managed to implant in your heart despite its stillness, or...you decided to not do this right now. Your time together with her was special to you, and you wanted to focus on that right now. 

She pours you a cup of tea and smiles faintly at you as she sits. “I see you received the outfit I sent for you.” 

You glance down at yourself after taking a sip. “I did. They’re very nice. I don’t think I’ve ever worn something like this before.”

“It suits you. I’m glad they came out well.”

“You ordered them for me?”

“Yes. While I, um, think your usual clothes are quite nice, I thought you might appreciate something...warmer. They’ll also help you fit in a bit better in the capital.”

“It’s very kind of you. Thank you, El.” You feel a smile creeping up on your face at her gift. You notice her flush a bit more as she takes another drink of her tea. Edelgard had always had an odd reaction to changes in your wardrobe. Back when, a few months after you’d just met her, you’d had to wear a spare academy uniform when your clothes had gotten dirty during training. Edelgard had taken one look at you and turned the color of a red beet, and then refused to speak to you for the rest of the day. 

She puts her cup down and searches your face, looking slightly puzzled. “You’re very welcome...Professor, do you know what day it is?”

You paused. You were always bad with your sense of time, and had relied extensively on the planner on the wall in your quarters back at the monastery. “Gar...land...Moon…?”

Edelgard sighs. “Professor, it’s the 12th of Garland Moon, yes. It’s your birthday.” 

“Oh.” You’d completely forgotten. Your birthday had never meant much to you. Your father would occasionally purchase you books for the day, but you were often on the road and this wasn’t always possible. The pendant and the warm letter from Edelgard you’d received at the monastery were actually the first gifts you’d gotten in years. “You’re right.”

“You forgot your own birthday?”

“It didn’t seem very important.”

She’s actively frowning. Wow, you messed this one up quick. “Does no one else celebrate your birthday?” 

“Not since Jeralt died.” Edelgard flinches like she’s just stepped on an explosive, and you immediately regret your bluntness. “Sorry,” you say after a beat.

“Professor…” She’s looking at you intensely, and you have to avert your eyes away from her, trying to find your fortune in the tea leaves at the bottom of your cup. “I’ve told you this before, but I value you highly. There’s no one else in the world I’d have rather have been standing next to at the end of the path we cut together. If I can impart any of this affection onto you, I would like very much if you could turn any of it inward and love and care for yourself.”

Her words both sting and warm you, like a medical lancet. You manage to look at her again, and she’s smiling sadly at you; after a moment she takes your free hand on the table in hers and entwines your fingers together with hers, your oppositely colored gloves creating an odd yin-yang. 

“Your birthday is important, so I got you a gift. That’s all.” You nod slowly and squeeze her hand.

“It’s a nice gift,” you manage at last. She doesn’t say anything more, but her smile grows a bit less lonely. 

You pass some time together in each other’s presence, the floral scent of the garden blowing around you comfortingly. Your hands remain gripped together, even as Edelgard returns to her novel. It’s not an unpleasant silence, and you think you could spend the rest of your days like this if it was allowed. 

“What are you reading?” You venture. The book has a cover, but you can’t read the title between the angle and book looking exceptionally faded; it must be old. 

“Ah…” She seems to hesitate, but you squeeze her hand a little, and she chuckles. “It is a romance novel. Something from the monastery I read on the few days of rest we had. I return to it every few years. It’s just a story I find comforting, even if its a bit of a cliched one.” 

“What’s it about?” 

A tinge of embarrassment enters her voice, but you run your thumb over her palm, trying to gently bribe her with touches. You’re curious - this is a piece of Edelgard trivia you didn’t know, but find...well, cute. There’s that feeling again. 

“It’s a story about a woman whose father cannot act in the military of their country anymore because of an illness, so she volunteers to go in his stead when their army goes to war. She proves herself quite admirably in combat and is awarded with an estate on her return home, where she strikes up a...rather torrid romance with a serving girl.” She coughs fretfully. “It’s fairly base, but I’ve always enjoyed the escapism, and it was the only novel I could find that featured a relationship between…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Between two women.” 

You nod. This all makes sense to you. You haven’t stopped running your fingertips over her palm gently. “It sounds interesting.”

“Y-Yes, well, I’m glad you think so. It’s terribly embarrassing.”

Your brain urges you forward, connecting two points of interest for you as ammo. “Edelgard, should I dress up like a serving girl?” 

Edelgard nearly chokes.

“W-W-W…” She coughs. “What are you insinuating - you are teasing me. Professor.”

You can’t help it - you laugh. You’re so unused to the sound of your own laughter that it nearly startles you out of stopping, but then you see the dense blush on the woman across from you’s face and lose it entirely, your only regret out of the entire situation being that you have to suddenly let go of Edelgard’s hand to hold your sides. Edelgard looks indigent at first, but your continued laughter seems to melt her expression, and soon, she is chuckling against her will, both at you and herself.

“Honestly,” she starts, “I’m not ever sure I’ve seen you laugh like that. Maybe at all. It’s quite nice.” 

You take a moment to recover, sniffing. “Sorry,” you say.

“Whatever for?” She shakes her head good-naturedly. “As long as you feeling well enough to laugh, then I know all is well.”

You nod. You decide you can tell her about your heart, later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the way she’s lit up with joy and animated now for the world. In the space between your conversation topics, though, your previously banished self-doubt starts to creep in.

When did these feelings start? The logical part of you questions it - if we assume that you could not have possibly had these feelings while your heart was still shriveled in your chest, then what had drawn you to Edelgard? You’d thrown yourself in front of a killer’s axe for her within moments of meeting her, determined not to allow her to die. Was it simple chivalry? No - even back then, you had a feeling. Maybe whatever magic parasite had hardened your heart had deadened your emotions, but it’d never been able to kill them entirely. Not with her around.

Self-preservation, then? You anchored yourself to her because you unconsciously believed it was the best way to save yourself? Did your bizarre battle instinct work that well - dropping you onto Edelgard’s path because it was in antagonist to the woman who’d killed you before you were born? The thought was...scary. 

You missed Sothis again. She would’ve surely mocked you for these thoughts and stopped you from dwelling on them. Maybe you could talk about this one day with Edelgard. But not today, and not now. You wanted nothing more to do today but to tease her and spend time with her. 

The woman herself interrupts your negative thoughts. “Tomorrow, there will be a planning for one of the annexings of the noble land I’d like your input on,” she says, putting away her tea paraphernalia. “It’s nothing incredibly serious, but I enjoy having you around for these things and no one will object to your presence once they know who you are.”

You nod in assent, and stand with her. You’d been out in the courtyard for several hours now. “Whose land?” 

"The former prime minister's. We don't expect him to put up a fight, and we can use his land for an expansion of farms in the area."

She takes your hand as she leads you back to her chambers, and while you’re definitely interested in this discussion, you can spare a moment for the way she runs her pointer finger over yours affectionately. 

“I’ll come with you if you want me to, El.” The pet name never fails to eke a smile out of her. “But the nobles at these sort of things usually don’t want to listen to someone like me.” You step over the threshold into her chamber with her, opening the door back inside. 

“That is because they are all stupid and dull,” she says, surprising you with a sudden kiss. She wraps her arms around your neck and uses it to pull your head towards her. Again, you find yourself overwhelmed with her softness, the feeling of her fingers lightly brushing the tips of your uneven hair, and you want nothing more than to pick her up and throw her on the chambers of her bed right that instant.

But…

You remember the taste of the vulnerary, thick in your sense memory. 

When she pulls away from you, there’s a look of intense pining on her face and she doesn’t untangle herself from you. “Then I will see you tomorrow. Please take care of yourself, Professor.”

You want nothing more than for this to continue, but even staying in her room for more than a moment might be dangerous. You bid her a good night, and try to not appear too hurried to get back to your own room so you can lay on the bed and try to literally not die. If she wasn’t before, Sothis is definitely laughing at you now. 

You’d only been on the too-spacious bed for a little while before your restless eyes start wondering, and eventually fall onto the book Manuela had lent you this morning. Gingerly, you roll over and pick it up, flipping through it. 

It’s filth. If the novel Edelgard was reading could be considered trashy, then this was a sewer system. And there’s so much of it, and much of it is illustrated. You frown. You understand the implication of her lending this to you, but you’re not sure why it would ever actually titillate you. Your sexuality only seems to remember it exists around Edelgard, and you’re not actually sure she wants you in various ways you want her so this all feels deeply pointless -

Wait.

This illustration. 

It catches your eye just as you’re about to give up and throw the book away, frustrated. A woman with long hair and piercing eyes glares downwards at another woman at her feet. The first holds a loose chain in her grasp, which is connected to a neck iron the genuflecting woman is wearing. That’s the only thing they’re wearing, of course. The second woman looks nothing like you, or at least, nothing like your mental image of yourself, but the dominant woman in the picture - her hair, her stance, the self-assured power in her image...well. 

She reminds you a lot of Edelgard. 

A heat starts to crawl up your stomach that threatens to spread throughout your body. You’d never felt like this alone before, and only the one time before with Edelgard. You feel so ridiculous, but the idea of peeling your glove off and touching yourself and just...pretending for a bit feels way more appealing than it should. You think about Edelgard above you, naked on her throne, pulling on the collar of your serving girl’s uniform, directing you to her most sensitive spots. You have to abstract it a bit, but the fantasy roots itself in your mind, setting aflame that part of your mind you reserved exclusively for thoughts of your emperor. You get the hem of your glove into your mouth to pull it off when your heart makes its presence known to you, suddenly so hard and loud in your chest. 

You deflate just as fast as you worked yourself up, throwing the book to the side of the bed and rolling over on your stomach. 

“This is ridiculous,” you groan, quietly and to yourself. You want to die of embarrassment for thinking about Edelgard in the way you just did. You wish you were back in the monastery so you could walk into the pond and live down there for the rest of your short life. You eventually manage to settle for dragging a pillow over your head and trying to sleep, praying for it to banish away the feelings of nervousness every choked beat of your heart serves you. 

Eventually, you find it, and mercifully, slip into a dream-free rest.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, thank you for reading.
> 
> My goal here was to provide a relatively IC edelgard and byleth, some light smut, some light humor, and some light angst. Neurodivergent Byleth is something I've had on my mind for a long time, and while it wouldn't be totally unfair to say this is a bit of projection on her, but the way the game presents her made me definitely interpret some things this way, and I think the character is ultimately stronger for it. This is also partially a writing exercise, to improve on my second person and to get used to writing more in character-ish works, as fun as the porn is. in the end I had more fun so I think I will probably continue in this vein for awhile.
> 
> if you'd like, you can follow me on twitter @kuebikodaughter, where I mostly currently retweet silly things and shitpost. i'll try to post more chapters of this there, too.


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